


Double Trouble

by romocon



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Demon Dean Winchester, Gen, Mild Blood, Mild Language, POV Dean Winchester, POV Sam Winchester, POV Third Person, Self-Harm, Soulless Sam Winchester, This Is Not Going To Go The Way You Think, This Is STUPID, both sam and dean are assholes, dont ask how, these two just mess around bc they can, they've been through it, this is an old story and sucks, yes this is demon dean and soulless sam at the same time
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-22
Updated: 2018-05-23
Packaged: 2021-03-12 13:20:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,921
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28636176
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/romocon/pseuds/romocon
Summary: We all know that Sam lost his soul in the beginning of Season Six when Castiel pulled him from the cage. And we all remember when we got the tease of demon Dean from the Mark of Cain in the beginning of Season Ten.But what would happen if these two incidents happened at the same time? Overall confusion, or double trouble?
Relationships: Dean Winchester & Sam Winchester





	1. Devil's Trap

**Author's Note:**

> WARNING; s/lf h/rm IN THIS CHAPTER because sam makes a devil's trap.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> When Dean leaves for some time, Sam decides to make a Devil's Trap.

Dean stood up from the couch in one brief movement and proceeded to the fridge where he pulled it open and popped himself a cold beer. He took a few swigs before returning to the area of which his brother Sam stood by the window, watching the townspeople walk by the apartment of which they currently rented.

Sam surveyed the streets outside and the cars that drove by. He raised his hand and ran it through his long chestnut hair before bringing it down his face and sighing. Upon returning from hell, Sam was fine. He felt great, more preferably. No emotions, no nothing. His brother, however, was the one with the Mark of Cain. He was a demon now, but he acted about the same whenever Sam was around. Snarky jokes, but more killing. Dean would leave the apartment and return with the First Blade in hand covered in crimson. Sam rolled his eyes every time.

Why he was still with his brother? He didn't know or care. He could've left his brother by now, but he had the idea of taking a break from all the stupid hunting. After all, they deserved one.

It was when Sam got the best idea, and his lips curled into a smile. He chuckled lightly before turning to Dean and scoffing.

"A beer? Really, Dean? How many have you had today?"

Dean had previously been twirling the First Blade in his hand, running his fingers along the teeth of the Blade. He turned his attention to Sam. "Dude, you think I care? Not like it affects me or anything," Dean answered, before looking into the kitchen. His face froze for a second and he looked at Sam. "No pie? Why do you always skip that when you go to the store?"

Sam smirked at his brother. "'Not like it affects me or anything'. You don't need to eat or drink, Dean."

"Damn right, I don't, but doesn't mean I can't have a decent slice of pie, Sam!" Dean rose from the couch and advanced towards Sam, waving the First Blade in front of his face and flashing his eyes black for a second. "How about you get me some pie, Sammy?"

Sam scoffed once more. "I am not your slave, Dean. Make yourself useful and get it yourself."

"Yeah, I think I will. When I come back, we'll discuss this." Dean stared at his brother for a second before turning to the door and opening it. He closed it quickly behind him and Sam walked to the window. He heard the low rumble of the Impala starting up and the screech of tires as the car rolled out of the parking lot and onto the street.

Sam smiled and put his hands on his hips. This was his moment.

-

Sam made his way into the kitchen when he no longer heard the Impala and went to the knife block. He picked up a sharp blade and ran it across his arm. He smiled as the thick substance began to trickle down his skin. He walked into the living room and drew a Devil's Trap on the ceiling above the door, tracing each and every line with his blood. He felt no need to use spray paint. This was a better method in his mind.

He admired his work before grabbing a nearby cloth to dry up the blood on his arm. He tied it tight and planned the arrival of Dean. It wouldn't be long.

In his opinion, he didn't want his soul back. After all, his emotions were gone. He could kill without remorse. He couldn't care less about his previous friends or family. It was great.

The low rumble of the Impala interrupted Sam's thoughts. He looked outside the window and saw Dean slam the drivers' side car door shut. He made his way to the apartment with a white bag in hand that was accompanied by some red dots all over it. Dean wiped his mouth on his sleeve before rummaging in his pockets and checking to see if the First Blade was there.

He stared at the oak door before turning the doorknob and walking abruptly into the room. He turned around and closed the door quickly.

"Sam? Where're you at?" he called into the empty apartment.

Dean set down his pie and began to search the apartment only to be stopped by an invisible force. He ripped up the carpet below him. Nothing.

He turned his head to see Sam walk into the room, slowly clapping with the snarky grin on his face. Sam laughed as he watched Dean struggle against his sly prank.

Once he had his fun, he looked at the ceiling, and Dean's eyes followed. Painting in red, a Devil's Trap was planted above his head. He glared at his brother before noticing the rag that was tied around Sam's arm. "Sam, you son of a b---"

Sam interrupted, putting his voice louder than Dean's. "So, how'd the grocery go? Get your pie?" Sam asked walking back and forth in front of Dean's little trap.

Dean glared at Sam, flashing his black eyes dangerously. "Sam, you're going to feel this blade when I get out of here."

"So get this, that's never going to happen! You need me to get you out. You're powerless, Dean. How's it feel?"

Dean watched as his brother began to pull Ruby's knife from his coat pocket. Sam ran his fingers over the carvings and chuckled. "I'll repeat myself; how's it feel, Dean?"

"Like I'm in FairyTopia, Sam. Now, break the trap."

"I'm sorry, did you say something?" Sam asked, smiling greedily. Sam reached in quickly and grabbed the grocery sack that Dean had dropped. He pulled out the container of pie.

Dean eyed him warily. "Oh come on, not my pie. I had to kill the cashier for that."

"Ooh, apple." Sam walked into the kitchen and returned with a fork in hand. He opened the container and dug his fork into the pie, grabbing himself a bite. He chewed the pie and laughed at Dean's shocked face.

"Oh, you bitch. You're really going to stand there and eat my pie in front of me?"

"I'll stop as long as you admit to not run me through with the Blade when I release you."

Dean glared. "Yeah, like I'd do that."

"Mmm, this pie is good. Very different from a salad, but who cares."

Dean stared and began shifting his weight. He couldn't just drive back and get more. The cops had to be at the grocery by now. Damn Mark.

"Alright, alright. I won't kill you: today. Just put down the pie and break the Trap."

Sam smiled in satisfaction as he put the apple pie and fork on a table near him. He used his foot to smudge the blood and break the Trap, resulting in his brother pinning him against the wall with the Blade against his throat.

"Don't touch my pie again, you hear me? I have no worries with killing you right here and now, Sam. Not like you or me will feel anything."

Sam smiled and relaxed. "Noted," he replied as he pushed Dean's arm away from him. He laughed and sat down on the couch, grabbing the remote from the table. He flipped on the TV and began to watch the News about Dean slicing a man's throat because he wouldn't let him get the pie. The two then began, reluctantly, to plan where their next visit would take place, for they couldn't stay here much longer.


	2. Prank Calls

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sam and Dean find an old phone of their fathers and Dean gets ahold of it himself.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> cw; gore for this chapter.

Dean sighed audibly as he shut the car door of the Impala. His brother Sam slipped his gun that he had previously had out into his coat pocket and rolled his eyes. His brother's constant shows of agonizing boredom began to agitate him and so he decided to bite.

"Dude, you're annoying as hell. What are you so upset about?" Sam retorted.

Dean shook his head. "I'm bored, Sam. We just had to leave our previous hotel apartment. What did you expect from me?"

"Other than total whining, I figured you would've done some violence now. I'm utterly surprised," Sam teased, strutting up to the door.

Dean stopped in his tracks. "You're still thinking about that prank, huh? Son of a gun, Sam. It was _not_ fun."

Sam smiled in satisfaction as he turned the key into the lock and pushed open the door. Dean followed shortly behind and they both set their belongings on the new couch. Sam put the key on the low table and went out to the Impala to grab Dean's belongings.

Dean walked around the apartment and observed. It was the same old, same old. He hated it as always. Hell, he could go out and rob a bank for all he cared and steal some money. They'd be rich, at least. Sam didn't have his damn soul, but who cares. A little action was all Dean needed. He couldn't care less.

Sam, however, opened the trunk of their car and grabbed their bags. When he lifted his own, however, an old phone fell to the bottom of the car. Sam slung the bag over his shoulder before noticing the tiny device that lay in replace of the bag. Sam wrapped his fingers around the phone, feeling its cold plastic and metal. He stared at it in disbelief before stuffing it into his pocket and grabbing Dean's bags.

He walked into the apartment room and immediately plugged the phone in after he had sat his and Dean's bags down. Dean was in his new room, quietly unpacking his belongings. Sam waited impatiently for the phone to start up. In the mean time, he wandered around the room thinking of Dean's situation.

Damn demon.

He knew something was wrong with the Mark. He tried to stop him, but no, Dean had to use it because he was the only one who could. He didn't care. It's Dean's problem now.

The phone dinged, announcing that it had started up. Sam walked over and observed, taking the phone into his own hands as he began to operate the profound object of which he had found.

Dean had annoyingly heard the noise himself. He called from his room, "What was that, Sam?"

Sam rolled his eyes. "A new phone I found. Don't know where it came from."

"Any junk on it?" Dean commented as he walked into the room and placed his hands on his hips. He leaned in behind Sam and stared as Sam scrolled through everything on the phone.

It didn't last long. After about fifteen seconds of Dean breathing down Sam's neck, Sam snapped. He grabbed the gun in his pocket and pulled it out slightly, just enough to show Dean that he meant business.

"Dean, stand there for one more second and I won't have a single bother," Sam warned.

"Damn, alright," Dean said as he held up his hands in surrender. "Find anything?"

Sam sighed and looked back down at the phone. "Yeah, a bunch of old numbers. Apparently, this used to be one of Dad's old phones. No idea how it had gotten into my bag."

Dean smiled and pulled the Blade from his back pocket. He held it at his side. "You mean to tell me that these are old numbers? Will anyone have any idea who's calling if they received one from this phone?"

Sam looked down and did a little searching. After about a painful minute, Sam looked at him. "No. He asked all his numbers that he texted to never fill in his contact. Wow."

Dean snatched the phone from Sam's fingers. He used his index finger and clicked on a random number and the phone broke into a buzz.

"Dean what the he--"

Ding, Dean put the phone to his ear. "Hey, baby. Did you tell him that you're coming home late?" Dean replied sexily as he had said the message in a smooth, dark, imitating voice.

The receiving person's voice was so loud, Sam heard it loud and clear as if the person were right next to him.

"ExCUSE ME? Who is this? What do you want?" the voice called it. It sounded of a man around his early forties.

Dean laughed into his elbow. "Oh, I'm so sorry. Is Miss Catherine there? Tell her I have a date with her tonight.

"'Miss Catherine'?" the voice asked. "Who the hell are you? That's my wife you're talking about!"

Dean chuckled. "May I say that your wife really knows how to make a guy feel good? You should ask her about it."

"Damn right, I will! If you see my wife again, I won't be afraid to show you my shotgun, boy." The phone didn't speak for a few seconds, but then the man came back. "John? John Winchester? Is that you? No way in hell."

Dean broke into a fit of laughter. Sam grabbed the phone and took a few steps away from Dean. "Mm, no, not John. We don't know of any John. But threaten me with a shotgun..." Sam's lips curled into a grisly smile as he looked at Dean who clutched his side.

"You're sick!" the voice yelled. "Lose my number!"

And then the phone beeped, signaling the end of the call. Dean fell onto the chair and began crying with laughter as Sam threw the phone on the couch and struggled to stand.

After a few minutes, the boys had settled down. Dean was the first to speak. "Dude, that was great!"

Sam nodded in agreement. "And how did you know his wife's name was Catherine?"

"When you were scrolling, you clicked the messages that Dad and he had exchanged. He said at one point that he was going to check on his wife Catherine. You can't tell me that wasn't funny!"

Sam picked the phone back up and smirked. "How 'bout another?" He picked a number and the phone began to ring. Sam held it to his ear. "My turn," he said to Dean.

And so, the number picked up. This time, it was a woman's voice.

"Hello?" she called out.

Sam scoffed. "Uh, yes, Pizza Palace. I'd like to order a large meaty pizza, but skip out on the sausage and ham, please? Instead, replace it with some human liver and--"

The voice gasped. "Ew, gross! This is not Pizza Palace, and I will not be serving you any kinds of that disgusting--"

"And maybe some skin on the side? It makes a good fondant for my cake."

The woman screamed in terror and made a sound of disgust. "Get LOST drunkie!"

Sam hung up before the woman could, and the two died once again. They didn't take a moment to think why their father would have a woman that easily offended on his list. It was funny, nonetheless. While Sam could feel no emotion, it was quite weird to let a fake laugh. He had to admit that their calls held a great amount of creativity in them.

And so, Dean and Sam both got their fair share of calls. It was now their last number available on the phone, but this one was labeled. 'Anthony'. The brothers decided to make this call both of theirs, and decided on Sam starting it off. He pressed the button and the phone began to hum.

The other line picked up. "Damnit. Hello? Who is this? Please, please. I... I think I'm losing blood," Sam called, falsely addressing the nonexistent blood that would be pouring from his stomach. Dean ran his fingers along the Blade and laughed along. This call would be their best.

"Oh my - can you tell me where you are? Who is this?" the voice panicked.

Sam focused back on the subject. "I think... I don't know. It's so dark. I bit off my arm, but someone cut my stomach. My friend is here--"

And Dean grabbed the phone. "Get your ass down here and help my guy out! Or I will track you down myself and make a nice painting with your insides," Dean grumbled.

"The one dude said he had bit his arm off. Can it be a pretty sunset?" the voice asked.

Dean stared at Sam in straight shock. What was their guy up to?

"Uh, who is this?" Dean asked, keeping his eyes locked with Sam's.

"It's Casser. I own a very nice garden outside my house in my lawn. Do you two garden much?" the man questioned.

Sam took the phone. "Help... I can't breathe..."

"Try following a honeybee." And with that, the voice hung up. Sam pulled the phone away from his ear and held it in his hand. He looked at Dean.

"Was that--?"

"--Yeah. Yeah, it was."

Dean laughed at Sam. Sam stared and frowned. They hadn't called one of their Dad's friends by the name of Anthony, but one of their own. How they had gotten the phone, they had no idea. But Dean didn't care. He laughed on his own. Sam stared and couldn't laugh. It'd only be fake. But he could be practical. How did their friend have the phone? And a garden?

"Dean, that was Cas. Our Cas with our father's old number. Can you even think about this for a second?" Sam pressed.

Dean waved his hands in front of Sam. "Dude, does it look like I care?"

Sam sighed impatiently and shook his head. He could find out about this later.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> and that's all for this two-parter. tbh, i forget writing it, but i had it saved in my google drive LMAO OOPS. stay safe and well everyone!


End file.
